Vintage Love

by Clarissa Ross

  “I saw the Bishop was here for the Garden Party,” Cousin Lily said with a smile as she kept busily knitting on a sweater which she wanted finished before the autumn came in.

  “It was not about the Bishop they were talking,” Marsden said. “The Marquis was discussing the coming public announcement of the Viscount’s marriage to Sir Matthew’s daughter!”

  Cousin Lily halted her knitting and leaned forward. “Did you really hear them discussing that? I was beginning to think it might not happen for some reason.”

  The dignified Marsden said, “That is what the Marquis was saying. That the marriage had been delayed too long. He wants it to happen at once and he was talking to the Reverend Kenneth about using the Cathedral for the ceremony.”

  “That would be proper,” Cousin Lily agreed solemnly.

  “Reverend Kenneth did not seem enthusiastic. But then you know he and the Viscount don’t get along! No love lost between those two brothers.”

  The cook sighed. “The Reverend Kenneth is so filled with Christian indignation, nearly everything offends him. He thinks George leads too loose a life!”

  “Aye,” Marsden agreed. “Now, Charles and George get on a deal better. They are truly fond of each other. But that Kenneth is an odd one!”

  “It is so!”

  “At any rate, the Reverend Kenneth promised to speak with the Bishop after the Marquis pointed out that the Queen and her consort might actually attend!”

  “Victoria and Albert! Think of that!” Lily said with awe.

  Marsden gave her a critical glance. “And why not? The Marquis and Sir Matthew are both advisors to Her Majesty. She should be at the ceremony which unites the two families.”

  Cousin Lily said, “Then it is only a matter of setting the date!”

  “It is!” Marsden said, emphatically placing his pipe back in his mouth.

  Fanny fled from the room and made her way upstairs. Her eyes were brimming with tears as she stepped out the service entrance to a deserted section where deliveries were made during the day. The news had shocked her, though she might have expected it. She could not entirely blame George for not telling her, for it was possible that he knew as little about this latest development as she did. His father might well be forging ahead with the wedding plans, expecting to discuss them with George when all was settled.

  She was sure it was the end of their happy summer romance. Tomorrow was her afternoon off, and as usual, she had promised to meet George in the deserted cottage at the other end of the estate. He had assured her he would be certain to be back from London by then. Her throat choking with pain, she decided she would keep the rendezvous, but it would be the last. She must begin to make other plans.

  When she had recovered from her first overwhelming sorrow she went inside and started slowly up the stairs to her room. On the first landing she met Dora Carson on her way down. The pleasant poor relation of the Palmer family halted to speak with her.

  “You look pale, Fanny,” the dark-haired girl said.

  Fanny said, “I expect I’m tired after the party yesterday.” She hoped the signs of her tears didn’t show.

  “It did make a lot of extra work for the staff,” Dora agreed. “Thank goodness such affairs don’t happen too often.”

  “That is true, Miss,” Fanny agreed.

  Dora leaned forward to her confidentially to add, “From all that I hear we may be faced with another special occasion soon!”

  “Oh?” she said.

  Dora nodded. “The Marquis is getting impatient! He is trying to rush the marriage between the Viscount and Virginia Andrews!”

  Fanny said, “You have heard this?”

  “It’s a fact. So be prepared!”

  Fanny said bitterly, “If he must marry, why must it be that silly miss with her love for gin!”

  Dora looked shocked. “How do you know that?”

  “About the gin? I saw her at it in her room!”

  Dora’s pretty face shadowed. “It is all too true. People have begun to notice and talk about her frequently drinking too much. And one so young! I’m sure her parents are hoping marriage will cure her!”

  “It won’t!” Fanny said unhappily.

  “I agree,” Dora replied with concern. “If only George would wake up and assert himself before it is too late. I fear he’ll go through with it meekly because of Virginia’s pretty face and the family’s desire to please the Queen. Her Majesty has heard of the match and approves of it!”

  “Bother the Queen! She ought not to interfere!” Fanny exclaimed.

  “You do have spirit, Fanny!” Dora said with a smile of admiration. “Well, never mind, perhaps it will all turn out better than we think.”

  “I hope so, miss,” Fanny said, the irony of it being that despite all this, Dora did not guess that she and George were lovers.

  • • •

  The next day Fanny could hardly wait to finish with luncheon and leave the mansion for a few hours. The luncheon dishes finished, she went upstairs and washed and changed into a simple but attractive print dress which was George’s favorite. Surveying herself in the mirror in the hall as she went downstairs she thought moodily that she was certainly not stylish like Virginia, although she carried a tiny white parasol against the sun and wore a small straw hat decorated with blue flowers. As she stepped out the side door Captain Charles came riding up on a dappled gray mare. He waved to her and dismounted. She didn’t want to talk to him as she was on her way to meet George but he handed the reins over to a lackey and came directly up to her.

  “By Jupiter, you look lovely this afternoon, Fanny,” the young officer complimented her. “You ought to have dressed like that for the Garden Party instead of wearing your maid’s uniform!”

  She managed a small smile. “But I am a maid, sir.”

  “So you are,” he agreed. “And a pretty one! Where are you off to?”

  Trying to hide her blushing, she said, “To shop and see some friends!”

  Charles winked at her knowingly. “See some friends! Now what might that mean? Some young man, I’ll venture!”

  She looked at Charles, immaculately turned out in his uniform, and thought how much he resembled George, though he was less handsome. She said, “There are other things in life besides men!”

  “True!” Charles agreed, holding his riding crop in his hands. “But don’t deceive yourself! The game between male and female is most important! You’ll find yourself playing it whether you wish it or not!”

  “I shall remember that,” she promised.

  “I was thinking of you yesterday during the party,” he said. “Wishing that you might brighten the dullness of the affair by singing for us as you did that night a few months ago at the party for the Prince.”

  She said, “I shall not likely forget my place again.”

  “You did not forget your place,” he protested. “It all seemed quite right. You were the equal of any lady present. I still remember you in that dress.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “Now, I really must go.”

  “Have a pleasant afternoon, Fanny,” the young man said. “I wish I could go along with you.”

  “That would never do, sir,” she said.

  “Perhaps not,” he declared with a sigh. “Why is it such a stuffy world, Fanny? Things would be so much simpler if it weren’t!”

  “I’m sure I’m not wise enough to answer that, sir,” she said. “Good afternoon!” And she hurried on her way.

  Ten minutes later she was walking quickly along the narrow woods road which led to the isolated cottage. It was shaded and pleasantly cool here and she closed her parasol and held her bonnet in her hand. She hoped that Charles had not guessed her destination or whom she was meeting!

  The cottage door was open and her pulse began to beat more quickly at the prospect of seeing George. She hurried to the doorway and saw him standing inside with his arms stretched out to receive her. She was filled with a mixture of pain and joy as she ra
n to him. He held her close to him, his lips on hers.

  Releasing her, he said, “Every minute seemed an hour! I rushed to get back from London. I’ve been waiting here more than a half-hour.”

  “I was delayed,” she said. “Charles met me on the way out and kept me talking.”

  The Viscount raised his eyebrows. “What did my brother want?”

  “Nothing,” she said. “He just talked in a friendly way.”

  “Do you think he had any idea you were coming here to meet me?”

  “I can’t imagine why he should,” she said, looking up into his handsome face wistfully. “Would you care very much if he did know?”

  “I’d be proud!” George said with a sudden smile, taking her in his arms again. “I’ve an idea Charles has his eye on you as well. It’s no good! You’re spoken for!”

  “Am I, truly?” she asked.

  “Truly,” he said. And, his arm around her, he took her into the bedroom of the cottage.

  She offered no resistance. She had thought it over and decided they would have this final beautiful moment before she told him of what she’d heard. She trembled as he undid her clothing with a skill born of familiarity. He had also become familiar with her lovely body and the areas of eroticism which most excited her.

  In a few moments their naked bodies united in the expression of their passion which had become so precious to them. Fanny was brazen in her enjoyment of the coupling. When it was over they lay together on the narrow bed delightfully exhausted. George slept for a little.

  When he wakened she had dressed and was sitting on the bed beside him. He frowned. “Is it so late? Must you go so soon?”

  “I do have to leave,” she said. “And there is something to discuss before I go.”

  The handsome Viscount leaned on an elbow, a single sheet covering his slender body. “What is wrong, Fanny? Something! I can tell.”

  Then she told him. She finished with, “Have you been deceiving me all along? Have you always known this marriage was to happen?”

  He sat up and seized her by the arms. “How can you believe that of me, Fanny? You know it is only you I love!”

  “You were attentive to Virginia at the party yesterday.”

  He made a weary gesture. “Only to please my father!”

  “Perhaps you will also marry her to please him,” she suggested.

  “Never!” he said.

  She looked at him directly. “You have never told him about me?”

  He hesitated. “No.”

  “Do you intend to?”

  “Yes,” he exclaimed, his handsome face showing his unhappiness. “I agree I have put it off too long, and I give you my word that I shall face him with it and have it settled.”

  Quietly, she said, “I have enjoyed this as much as you have, George. You do not have to marry me because I have given myself to you. I do not hold you to any bargain!”

  “You do not need it,” he said. “I have never felt for Virginia what I feel for you. To marry her would be a sham! I want no part of it!”

  She could not doubt his sincerity and she threw her arms about him. Their embrace was long and deeply felt. And when she left him she once again hoped they might share some sort of future together.

  This hope was bolstered by the fact that in the weeks following there was no announcement of a marriage between Virginia and the Viscount. She continued to meet George secretly and they kept their usual midnight trysts in her bedroom. When she asked him if he had spoken to his father, he told her he had managed to postpone the wedding with Virginia on the grounds that he loved another. As yet he had not revealed that the woman he loved was Fanny.

  “My father is old and quick-tempered,” George warned her. “I must do this gradually. I understand him. It is the only way.”

  She accepted this as reasonable. The shock of learning that his son wished to marry a servant in his house would be difficult for the proud old man.

  Then something happened which terrified her. The Reverend Kenneth Palmer continued to divide his time between his duties at the cathedral and living in the old mansion with his family. He moved about the great house like a grim raven in his dark clerical garb and white collar. His hawk-like face was always set in a grim expression and often as he talked with anyone he fingered the golden cross he wore around his neck as if to ward off evil, worldly spirits.

  Fanny felt he reserved some of his most formidable frowns for her. Yet she was startled when he came upon her suddenly in one of the shadowed upper corridors as she was coming from doing up a bedroom. The ascetic young cleric seized her by the arm and spoke to her in a low voice.

  “You are a daughter of wickedness!” he hissed at her.

  Tensely, she tried to draw away from him. “What do you mean, sir?”

  “Don’t try your evil wiles on me, girl!” he snapped. “I know you for the harlot you are!”

  “Sir!” she reproved him.

  “Do not deny it,” he said, his eyes shining fanatically, his face distorted with hatred. “You are the sort which brought about the fall of Sodom and Gomorrah!”

  “You are raving!” she protested.

  “No!” he cried. “I know whereof I speak! I have seen my brother coming from your room after sinning there with you! Not once but several times!”

  “You sneaking creature!”

  “Do not scorn me! I am a servant of the Lord!” he went on wildly. “And you are a scarlet woman!”

  “I will not hear you any longer! Let me go!” she sobbed.

  “You will hear me and then I shall release you,” the Reverend Kenneth said in the same low, hissing voice. “I have not spoken of this to my father or anyone else. Not for your sake or for my brother! George is a wicked person! I despise him! But I must think of my father!”

  “You will be sorry when I tell George,” she warned him.

  “Yes,” he said. “Tell George! Tell him your bedding with him must end, else I will reveal all! You will be sent out into the streets where you belong and George will be disgraced before my father!”

  With this warning he gave her a final baleful look and went on down the stairs. She stayed in the sanctuary of the dark corridor until she had recovered her composure. Even then she was dreadfully worried. She was to meet George in the garden that night and she could barely endure the hours before she could tell him what had happened and warn him of the intentions of the Reverend Kenneth.

  Once again there was moonlight, but Fanny was in no mood to enjoy it. All she could think of was contacting George and telling him of the ugly encounter with his fanatical brother. She fairly raced along the gravel path until she came to the arch of roses. George was waiting in the shadows as usual.

  She let him take her in his arms and kiss her. Then she hastily told him, ending with, “I think you should talk to your father before he does.”

  “I agree,” George said grimly.

  “Your brother hates us both,” she warned him. “He will not hesitate to harm us!”

  “Kenneth takes his priestly vows too seriously,” the young Viscount said with disgust. “Why does he try to interfere with our lives when he knows so little of the problems we face?”

  “He considers himself the Lord’s servant.”

  “A poor errand boy for the Almighty, I fear,” he said. “Kenneth has always been jealous of me. He is a strange, twisted person. I regret he entered the Church. He will do it little credit.”

  Fanny said, “If he goes to your father it will make your task of telling him you plan to marry me doubly hard.”

  “I have been too long getting around to a frank discussion with my father,” George admitted.

  “Let us pray it is not too late now.”

  “I think not,” George said. “Tomorrow morning will find me before my father, declaring my intentions regarding you.” He again took her in his arms and they remained in a long, ardent embrace.

  Fanny felt afterwards it must have been the intensity of their emotion
s which plunged them into a world of their own removed from anything beyond themselves. She heard nothing as they embraced until angry words cut through the stillness of the night air.

  “So I have found you!” It was the old Marquis come upon them.

  George released her quickly and took a step forward to confront his father. In a quiet yet steady voice, he said, “I am sorry you discovered us this way, sir!”

  The Marquis angrily drummed his walking stick on the gravel. “From all I hear, I could have done worse! Found you in bed with this strumpet!”

  “Do not say such things, father!” George cried.

  “I shall speak the truth,” the Marquis declared in his hoarse voice, thick with anger now.

  “I know that Kenneth has gone to you with his tales,” George said desperately.

  “It is good someone warned me,” his father replied.

  Fanny stood in the background feeling that her silence was the most valuable contribution she could make at this moment. George continued to stand between her and his father.

  George said, “It is all my fault, sir. I should have told you about this earlier!”

  “Told me you were sleeping with one of our maids! I vow you have more brazen nerve than I’ve given you credit for!” the old man cried.

  “Listen to me,” George pleaded. “It is true Fanny and I are in love, and have been lovers, for that matter. But that is because she is the only woman in the world for me, the only one I shall ever marry!”

  The Marquis leaned on his cane and stared at his son in blank astonishment. Then he said, “I swear this is worse than a vulgar business of bedding! You have lost your senses as well! You are daft!”

  George moved to Fanny and placed his arm about her. “I love Fanny, father. And I ask your permission to marry her! I told you I did not want to marry Virginia because there was someone else!”

  “Daft!” the old man muttered in a stunned fashion.

  “I mean this, father,” George said.

  The Marquis stared at him. “Gad, I believe you do!” Then he addressed himself to her. “Young woman, what have you to say for yourself?”

  “There is little I can say except that I love George,” she told him.

  “So you love George!” the Marquis repeated her words with grim irony. “That is fine news, fine news, indeed!”